Fuel to Fire
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'It's been exactly a month since Kate Beckett was admitted to the burn unit of the hospital after surviving the explosion of her apartment and she's proving to be one of their most difficult patients yet.' 2x18 inspired AU. Three shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A special thanks to the wonderful Alex, who read over this for me _ages_ ago. **

* * *

Castle takes a deep breath standing outside of her room, just out of sight from the patient inside. It's been exactly a month since Kate Beckett was admitted to the burn unit of the hospital after surviving the explosion of her apartment and she's proving to be one of their most difficult patients yet. But he can't blame her, not after all she's been through and the still long road of recovery ahead of her.

So he plasters on a smile, enters her room with a chirp of greeting and a new set of charts displaying her progress, and receives a scowl in return that has her wincing.

The flames only kissed her face, caressed her cheeks in first-degree burns, singed her hair and licked at her ears, but the damage becomes worse along her neck, down to her shoulders and chest. The most severe of the burns, though, decorate her legs, her sides, and her back.

"Sanders told me you refused to do your physical therapy," Castle starts, pretending to read off the chart, choosing not to repeat the other man's choice words about her. No, she isn't the most pleasant person in the burn ward, rarely did they have a patient who was, but he's never expect her to be. Her life has been turned upside down, her body scalded by flames, her home in ashes - he considers it a victory that she's willing to wake up each day.

"Sanders is an asshole," Kate grumbles, diverting her gaze to her exposed legs, glaring at the recovering limbs.

"I'm sorry I wasn't in for your skin grafting today," Castle murmurs, hooking the chart on the edge of the bed and easing towards her.

"I don't need you around to hold my hand," she bites out, but the words are raspy, raspier than usual. Her vocal cords are still healing from the excessive smoke inhalation that leaves her straining to speak sometimes, but she's making progress, slowly reclaiming a voice he's realized is quite beautiful.

"Shh, no need to lie, Kate. I know I'm your favorite nurse."

"I hate you," she grunts, but her left hand softens from its tense fidgeting at her side when he brushes his index finger over her knuckles, over the waxy path of pale skin and ruptured blood vessels. Her right hand is practically untouched, healed from the superficial burns it sustained. It frustrates her more, he thinks, to have pieces of her body that survived the fire without the scarring that will inhabit her flesh for the rest of her life, to see the intense contrast between the smooth and the devastated skin.

"It looks good," Castle comments, grazing his eyes along her left leg, over the patches of skin that will aid in healing the worst of her burns.

"It looks like I'm a patchwork quilt."

"I like it. Patchwork quilts are filled with stories, you know. Each patch has a different one."

"It hurt," she sighs, twitching her bad hand under his. He brushes her arm in response, careful when skimming the damaged skin of her forearm, her bicep.

She shifts under the graze of his fingers. Castle pauses over the muscle that she forces into a flex, showing off one of her latest accomplishments.

"Does it hurt when I touch you?"

Something flashes in her eyes, a flame of a different kind.

"No. I don't mind when you touch me." His fingers travel up to the exposed skin of her neck at the murmur of permission, caressing the line of her throat stained in blotches of discolored skin still trying to heal, up to the line of her jaw seared with the scar she received when her burning apartment collapsed all around her, upon her. Kate watches him with curiosity and challenge as he skims the bone of her cheek, traces the ear she can barely hear out of now. "It's… nice to be touched again. Especially by someone who isn't repulsed."

"Burned or not, you're far from repulsive," he huffs, withdrawing his hand because this has to be some form of inappropriate contact. Sure, he's just examining his patient, checking the healing areas of her skin, but the familiar tension simmering between them says otherwise.

"Burns and scarring cover my body from practically my head to my toes," she mumbles, usually angry when they fall into this conversation, but now… her words are tired. Everything about her is tired, exhausted from the extensive recovery process, from the constant companion of pain that is always spilling through some part of her, from being so obviously miserable. "I don't blame anyone who's _unsettled_ by my appearance. I'm not a fan of it myself."

"I've seen pictures of you from before the fire, you know," Castle murmurs the secret he never planned to share, earning a horrified dart of her widening eyes to his face. The surprise fades a mere second later, though, the idea of him snooping is hardly a shock, he's sure. Did she really expect him to refrain from researching her, from devouring every morsel of information he could find on the remarkable detective who has the most outstanding closure rate in the city and once upon a time looked absolutely adorable in her uniform? "You were stunning."

Her lips purse with indignation, but he lifts a hand in supplication. He isn't finished.

"You still are, Kate."

She scoffs at him now, frustration pinching the corners of her eyes.

"You still have a gorgeous face," he continues even as she pretends to ignore him. "And those eyes I can never quite determine the color of." The edges of her lips flicker with the threat of amusement. "Plus, you still have a killer body. It's just covered in a story now."

"That doesn't make me feel better," she rasps, but her damaged hand extends outwards, searching for his on the edge of the hospital bed. Rick twines their fingers, studying her swollen hand, her fingers like wax, scorched from the flames that tried to melt them.

"Then I'll remind you how striking you are every time I see you until you believe me," he states, smug and sure of himself, because it isn't a lie.

He's been with quite a few women in his time, beautiful women, all stunning in their physical appearances, but despite the burns and scars scattered across her body, Kate somehow manages to outshine them all. Her wit and dry sense of humor, her drive and determination, the kindness he's seen her show towards the other burn victims she's encountered throughout her time in the ward - it all encourages the crush he's seemed to develop on her, it makes him feel things he hasn't before. It makes him wish that he could be more than her nurse.

But she doesn't need to know any of that yet.

"Actually," he says before she can protest his promise. "Once you're well enough to be transferred out and I'm no longer your nurse, I'm going to ask you on a date, Kate Beckett."

A laugh bubbles past her lips, the first laugh he's ever heard from her. It happens to be the most wonderful sound he's ever heard.

"And if I say no?"

"I'm persistent," he quips. "And we both know you're attracted to me, especially when I wear my scrubs."

Kate pins her bottom lip with her teeth to suppress her smile, shaking her head at him the entire time.

"I don't need a pity date from you, Castle."

"Pity date?" he repeats with mock offense, smacking his free hand to his chest, creating a scene to keep that smile in place. "I am taking advantage of the chance to go out with the hottest patient in the ward."

"Funny," she drawls, but her lips have bloomed into a gentle grin he's never seen before and her eyes are shining like stars instead of embers. He has the sudden but intense yearning to make Kate Beckett look like this for as long as she'll allow.

And oh, there may be a reason to make that smile grow even more brilliant.

"Almost forgot," Castle murmurs, digging in the pocket of his pants, coiling his fingers around the jewelry box. "I have something else that might make you feel better too."

Kate inclines her head towards him, wincing at the scorched skin on the side of her neck that pulls with the action. But her concentration shifts from her pain at the unfurling of his hand, her brow furrowing when he presents her with the palm sized box.

"What is it?"

"Beckett, telling you what is in the jewelry box before you open it would be extremely anticlimactic."

She rolls her eyes and snags the box with her good hand, shakes off the fingers he has curled around her damaged one so she can ease the box open.

Her lips part once she does, breath catching. Her eyes go wide as her fingers graze the gold of the chain.

"You… how did you find it?" she whispers, lowering the box to her lap but withdrawing the chain carrying the ring. Her mother's ring.

She told him about the lost keepsake a couple of weeks ago, on one of the particularly harder days of her time here. It cracked his heart wide open to watch the anguish fill her eyes, sent anger coursing through his veins to learn that she lost not only her home because of the bastard now securely locked away in the tombs, but also her most prized possession.

Which led into the truth about her mother.

He doesn't think the fissures instilled in his heart during that conversation will ever heal completely.

"I went to the scene last week, asked them to comb through your place one more time, as thoroughly as possible," he explains, recalling all of the bribing he did. His wallet may need some extra time to recover as well. "They found it beneath the worst of the wreckage, along with your father's watch. I have that too, but it had a nasty crack in it, so I'm having it repaired. Is that-"

"Castle," she chokes, digging her teeth into her bottom lip, but the moisture still gathers and pools in her eyes, trickles down the healed skin of her cheek.

Not once has he witnessed Kate cry for any reason other than physical pain and it shoots an arrow of panic through his chest.

"I'm sorry," he begins to stammer, but Beckett only releases a watery chuckle at his expense. She reaches to reclaim his hand with the fingers not intertwined in the gold chain he bought to replace the soot stained string of ashes the last became.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Kate breathes, the gentle smile back and lacing like a welcome noose around his heart. "I - this is arguably the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"Anything for you," he murmurs. It takes him a second too long to realize what he's said, that he means it, but her expression doesn't falter or change, still soft and lovely and making him wish he could crawl into the cramped hospital bed with her and just stay.


	2. Chapter 2

"You are not giving me a sponge bath," she growls, gripping the towel too tightly around her torso, refusing to follow him into the bathing area set up for her.

Castle sighs but knows better than to push. He already offered her the option of a female nurse, the same offer she's received multiple times throughout her ten-week stay in the ward for her hydrotherapy sessions, but he knows this isn't about comfort for her. Kate Beckett doesn't want to risk him seeing her naked because she's ashamed. He saw it clear in her eyes as she assessed herself in the bathroom mirror while he started the bathwater.

"It's not a sponge bath, Beckett. Well, unless you want it to be," he quips, wiggling his eyebrows at her and receiving a scowl in return. "All I'm going to do is assist when necessary, make sure you're comfortable doing this on your own so you're all set for discharge. You can even pull the curtain around if you want your privacy," he suggests, tugging on the sterile white plastic that lines the regular bathtub.

Kate casts another glance to the mirror and physically shudders, turns back towards the door. Castle catches her good hand before she can try to escape.

"Hey, talk to me, what's the matter?" he implores, squeezing her fingers but she doesn't budge. "You've been dying to get out of here since you woke up from the coma, I thought you'd be excited for some independent bathing."

Her lips twitch with a flicker of amusement, but it's gone just as quickly, the despair lining her features prominent once more.

"I'm normal here," she whispers, withdrawing her fingers from the cradle of his, covering the damaged hand holding her towel in place. "I'm not - I'm just another burn victim like everyone else here. Out there, outside these hospital walls… Rick, you know how people are going to look at me."

Castle drifts in closer to her, his hand rising to graze her bicep on its own accord, a habit she's never denied him of, and dusts his fingers along the blotches of skin she can't feel. He understands her hesitation, her fears, has dealt with them through multiple patients, but he's unashamedly biased when it comes to Kate Beckett. He still finds her beautiful and has a hard time imagining others viewing her as anything but.

"I know you've heard this a million times, but what people think of your appearance doesn't matter, Kate, you're still-"

"You're right, I have, and it's bullshit," she snaps, shrugging out of his touch but not pacing away from him. "I'm an NYPD detective. You think a suspect will ever take me seriously again looking like this?" she demands, waving a hand over her face, swiping her fingers over the scar along her jawline, the damaged flesh claiming her neck, in disgust. "My entire appearance is a weakness in every sense of the word."

"Or it could be a strength," he points out, scrambling to explain before she flays him alive with her glare. "People see this," he mumbles, smoothing his fingers over the scarred skin of her throat, traveling up to caress her jaw and the spill of pink skin that branches out from her temple to color the outer edge of her eye socket. "They see someone who survived something, who fought for their life, someone who could take on anything that came their way."

Her eyes squeeze shut, but Kate leans into his palm when it cups her cheek.

"The only people comfortable seeing me like this are you and Lanie, and that's only because you see this all the time and she's used to viewing deformed bodies for a living. Everyone else…" The line of her throat bobs. "They can barely meet my eyes."

"You think that's what you are?" he murmurs the question, waiting for her eyes to slide open before he continues. "Deformed?"

She doesn't answer him, a small sigh slipping past her lips as her eyes fall from his gaze.

"You have some skin damage, Kate. You have some scars and discoloration-"

"Is this where you tell me I'm unique, beautiful in my own way or some other pretty speech about embracing my differences?" she huffs, dislodging his hand from her cheek to shift away from him. "Because I really don't want to hear-"

"Nope, this is where I tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself," he quips, smirking when her brow hitches in surprise, indignation flaring in her eyes and rising to her lips. Castle carefully grips her by the shoulders before she can speak it, turns her to face the small rectangle of the mirror over the sink. "And to look in the mirror and accept the person staring back at you."

"You or me?" she murmurs, training her gaze on his face next to hers in the reflection, his cheek pressed into the softness of her hair.

"Mm, preferably both. But more importantly, you." He places his hands on her hips, squeezes the bones he knows are unscathed. "You aren't defined by your appearance, Kate. You're more than what people see."

A smile flutters at the edges of her lips and Castle moves to step back, aware that too much unprofessional contact has already occurred between them, but Kate leans back against his chest. He watches her wince at the pressure on her back, where the worst of her burns lie, before relaxing against him.

"Thank you, Castle," she sighs, finding his hand at her side and tentatively drawing his arm around her waist. It's too much, to hold her like this, especially when she's adorned in nothing but a towel, but he doesn't let her go, has no hope of letting go of her when all he wants is to hold her tighter.

"Nothing to thank me for, Beckett. If I had it my selfish way, I'd keep you here forever."

She grins at him in the mirror. "You act as if you'll never see me again. We still on for a pity date?"

"The moment you are settled back into everyday life," he confirms, excitement fluttering through his stomach at the idea, pleasant surprise that she's taking him seriously. Even if she is still referring to it as a date of pity. "Or if you need a sponge bath at any point, you call me. Day or night, I will be there for you."

Kate rolls her eyes and steps out of his embrace, starting towards the bath water that has likely cooled beyond her preference. The towel begins to slip down her spine, exposing the roughened terrain of her flesh, the patches of pink and strips of scar tissue, the rare glimpses of untouched skin beneath her shoulder blade, along her tailbone-

"Turn around, Castle."

Rick blushes and turns his back to her, allowing her to slip into the tub and ease the curtain shut around the rim. When he glances over his shoulder, only her bent knees are in his line of vision.

"Okay?" he calls quietly, hearing her adjusting to the water, her movements slow and wary, but eventually, he listens to her hum of contentment.

"Yeah, I think I'll be able to handle this on my own," she answers, sounding so proud of herself for something so simple. He smiles; he's proud of her too.

Kate soaks for a few minutes, applies the soap he hands her, and washes her hair with the hospital issued shampoo. She accepts the towel and the hand he offers to step from the tub once she's finished.

"Feel better?" he asks while he drapes another towel at her shoulders for her hair, drying the dripping strands while she slips into the hospital brand slippers.

"Much. I hated relying on Rosie to scrub me down," she chuckles, walking with him to the sink where her clothes sit folded and ready for her.

"Oh, she's going to miss you," he says, smiling with her over the elderly nurse that he's certain everyone in the ward harbors a soft spot for. "Who else is she going to lecture about attitude adjustments?"

"That was one time," Kate huffs, nodding for him to turn around again, allow her the chance to step into her underwear and sweatpants, slide the thin, oversized t-shirt past her head.

He helps her ease her arms through the sleeves of the material once she's facing him again, continues to towel dry her hair for her even though she doesn't really need the help anymore. Doesn't need him.

"Regardless, rest assured that it is I who will miss you the most," he informs her, skimming his thumb along the healed skin of her ear, the shell permanently pink, but no longer seared raw.

Kate reaches out to hook her fingers in the fabric of his scrub top, reeling him in close enough that their hips bump and his lungs stutter in his chest. His body is torn between staggering backwards and tugging her closer at the contact. She's drifting into him, though, seeking in that silent way he's grown to recognize, could never deny.

Despite his hesitation, Rick laces his arms around her tender upper body, combs his fingers through the damp locks of hair, and waits on her.

"Since the explosion, since I was brought here, there have been so many moments, days, where I hoped I would die," she confesses, her lips at the v of fabric his scrub top creates beneath the hollow of his throat.

Castle sucks in a breath at the admission. He's seen many patients turn suicidal due to their injuries, the traumatic changes applied to their bodies, their lives. He's known Kate's misery, witnessed both the physical and mental anguish she's undergone, but the idea of her being gone, dead…

He presses his lips to her hairline, splays his palms at her back to gingerly draw her in closer against him.

"The pain was so intense," she continues, her voice as soft and careful as his touch. "And my life felt like it had burned with my apartment. It still does sometimes, but you… you've made it easier to keep going, to wake up each day, and I just want you to know I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful I have you."

He refuses to cry, he has absolutely no reason to cry, so he takes a moment, forces the lump in his throat to recede and resists the urge to press his own gratitude against her lips.

"I'm grateful I have you too, Kate."

And now, he doesn't want to let her go.

* * *

There are other patients in the ward that he could be dedicating his time to that day, but he spends the majority of his shift with Kate. They go over her discharge plan, her physical therapy schedule and at home routines, celebrating her approaching freedom with balloons and a small cake that makes her laugh once his work day is done.

"This was highly unnecessary, Castle," she chuckles, batting away the congratulatory decorations when they drift towards her hospital bed. "How much did you have to pay your intern to blow all of these up while I was bathing?"

"I didn't pay Peter anything," he huffs, handing her a plate of the red velvet cake he picked up from the bakery down the street this morning. "He offered to grab them from the party store for me. And, don't get too excited, but I got you a present too."

Kate's eyebrows crease with concern. "Rick, I hope you didn't-"

"It's nothing extravagant," he promises, abandoning her bedside to retrieve his jacket from the chair in the corner, where it always lies draped during his time off spent in her hospital room. "A homemade present, actually."

Kate places her dessert off to the side and waits patiently for him to return to her, grinning when he takes a seat near her hip and hands her the gift-wrapped box.

"No jewelry this time?" she teases, her eyes flickering to the prized possession of her mother's ring on the bedside table, her father's watch, repaired and propped up next to the chain.

"You wouldn't want me to become predictable, would you?" he hums, pursing his lips in anticipation as she fumbles with the tape holding the purple wrapping paper together, peeling it back to reveal the plain box beneath.

Kate lifts the lid, reaches for the notebook inside with intrigue tugging on her brow and spreading through her eyes. He doesn't speak, for once, doesn't try to explain, and instead holds his breath once she finally plucks the book from its box and opens to the first page.

"This is your handwriting," she murmurs, but her focus is on the pages she's flipping through, filled with his handwriting, with stories he never planned to share with anyone. Stories about her. "Castle, you… you wrote for me?"

Her gaze finally rises to see him, that beautiful tenderness he remembers from the day he returned her mother's ring to its rightful owner flaring bright through her irises, shimmering with something he refuses to recognize as tears.

"Had I gone down a different path in life, I think I would have chosen to write," he tries to explain, fiddling restlessly with his hands while Kate attempts to divide her attention between him and the words spread across her lap. "I normally don't have the time to get much writing done, but after spending all this time with you…" Castle sucks in a breath as he shrugs, does his best to play this off as no big deal. The last thing he wants is to overwhelm her by placing his heart in her hands. "You inspire me, Kate."

The charred tips of her fingers dust over the scrawl of his writing on the lined page, her eyes skimming before she eases the book shut and cradles it to her chest.

"This is beautiful," she whispers, extending her hand to caress his cheek, coaxing him to lean in closer. Close enough that he could simply tilt forward, kiss her if he wanted to, if he were allowed to. "Thank you."

Castle smiles at her in return, turns his head to graze his lips along her palm instead. "I'm just glad you like it."

He should pull back, he knows, but Rick can't help lingering when she takes advantage of his proximity, drifting forward to rest against his forehead. Her eyes slip shut, her fingers climbing his cheek to curl around his ear.

It takes all he has to breathe through the intimacy of her touch, the yearning it ignites within his chest.

"Can you stay a little longer?" Kate murmurs, opening her eyes to skim her lashes along his cheek.

"Of course," he answers without hesitation, covering the hand at his ear to squeeze her fingers, draw them back down so he can shift from his position on the edge of her bed. She scoots over to make room and he settles beside her on the spacious cot.

It isn't appropriate hospital conduct, but his shift ended an hour ago and by tomorrow morning, he'll no longer be her attending nurse.

"While I'm here, we should schedule our date," he quips, resting his shoulder beside hers, waggling his brow in the way that always elicits a sound of amusement from her lips, but she doesn't laugh at him this time.

Kate leans into his side, a pleasant warmth infusing every inch of his body she comes into contact with, and meets his inquisitive gaze with a grin.

"Go ahead."


	3. Chapter 3

Rick takes the elevator to the floor of her new apartment, swinging the bag of takeout at his side while he waits for the doors to slide open, eager to finally have a glimpse of the place she's raved about over the phone.

It's been two weeks since she was discharged and after sorting through her schedule and his too, they at last set a date for him to take her out to dinner. But after he arrived home from his early shift at the hospital today, showered, dressed in evening wear, and given himself a nod of approval in the mirror, Kate called him.

"I can't do it."

Disappointment flared in his gut, but Rick took a deep breath within the privacy of his bedroom, approached the tinge of panic in her voice with understanding.

"Why not, Kate? We've been planning this for a while now and you mentioned having a nice time being out at the park the other day-"

"I wasn't wearing a dress in the park. You couldn't see-"

"You're wearing a dress?" he inquired, the desire to see her again, to see her dressed up for him, simmering through his bloodstream.

"Not the point, Castle."

"Um, kind of. If I found you attractive in a hospital gown, seeing you in a dress may be my undoing, Beckett."

She choked on a laugh and it fueled his confidence. He wouldn't let her insecurities rule her life, ruin their plans.

"What if instead of going out, we stayed in?"

She was reluctant, but he convinced her on his way out of his apartment, coaxing her into the idea throughout his walk to the nearest subway station. And now he stands outside of her apartment, knocking on the door, and awaiting its opening with anticipation.

He listens to the flip of locks, the shift of tumblers, and holds his breath as the door is finally eased open.

Only to lose it at the sight of her standing on the other side.

"Kate," he whispers, helplessly admiring the black cocktail dress that clings to her skin, exposes the delicate ridges of her collarbones, her shoulders, and flares at her waist to brush her knees. She looks amazing. So good, he forgets all about the marred skin she's unable to hide.

Her smile is tentative, a little bashful when she notices the sweep of his eyes up and down her frame.

"Castle-"

"You're beautiful," he manages, watching her head duck, the loose curls of her hair tumbling over her shoulders to hide her cheeks.

"You should come in," she murmurs, stepping aside to allow him entrance. Castle crosses the threshold, tearing his eyes from his former patient to study the interior of her home instead.

"Wow, nice," he compliments, allowing her to take the bags of food and place them on her kitchen counter. "How'd you find such a great place so quickly?"

"Whenever my dad would visit me in the hospital, he'd bring his laptop along," Kate explains, extricating the boxes of takeout from the plastic bags, arranging them along the expanse of her countertop. "We spent a few weeks browsing through apartments, scheduling interviews for after my release date. This is the one I truly wanted. Hopefully it doesn't get blown up."

Castle huffs and steps up behind her in the spacious kitchen area, accepts the plates she hands him and begins divvying up the food from the styrofoam containers. She's wearing heels, he notices with each sway of her body towards his, the strappy black stilettos elevating her to reach his eye level, placing the enticing bones of her hips within such easy reach of his hands. He struggles not to take advantage, to frame her waist in his palms and draw her in close-

"This doesn't count as our date," Kate adds, maneuvering past him to retrieve silverware from a drawer he was blocking. Rick scoffs as he balances their plates in his hands, starts for her dining room table.

"Why not? You didn't want to go out for dinner, so I brought dinner to you," Castle shrugs, setting her table with the food he ordered from the restaurant that he initially planned to take her to this evening. Kate backed out at the last minute, is still trying to back out, in a sense, and he knows why. But he won't let it deter him.

It's been exactly fifteen days since she was released from the hospital and while it isn't his first time seeing her since her discharge date, it is his first time seeing her dressed up for him with her hair curled and a soft layer of makeup on her face. It does little to conceal the raised scar scaling her jaw, to hide the spread of pink coating the skin stretched from the corner of her eye to her temple, but he still finds her breathtaking.

"It can just be two friends, catching up," she decides, watching him from the edge of the kitchen with mournful eyes. "Just friends, Castle."

"I don't think you want to just be my friend, Kate," he challenges with an arch of his brow, daring her to deny it while he steps forward to steal the cutlery from her limp fingers.

"How can you?"

He pauses in his arranging of the table, glancing back to her with genuine confusion. Usually, he can follow the train of her thoughts without issue, without her even having to speak them, but she just went off the rails.

"How can I what?"

Kate shifts, crossing her arms over her chest and lowering her gaze to the hardwood floor.

"Since we met, since… you've always seemed like you wanted to be more than my friend," she mumbles the observation. He nods even though she isn't looking at him.

"Well, yes. Aside from your sparkling personality," he teases, earning a sharp pierce of her eyes, a twitch of her lips. "You're a very attractive woman. Working with you may have been my job, but it doesn't mean it made me blind."

"That's my point," she sighs, frustration creasing her brow. "You've been a great friend to me, Rick. But I don't know how… how you can be attracted to me," she confesses, the last of her words slipping past her lips in a low mumble he almost misses.

"Are you joking?" he asks without thinking, but she doesn't respond, her cheeks burning red and her eyes downcast, hidden by her lashes. And she really believes that, doesn't she? Genuinely believes that he couldn't want her because of her appearance.

"I have mentioned how wonderful you look, right?" Castle adds, placing the last piece of silverware beside her plate and drifting to stand before her, hands hovering at her waist in permission.

Her skin is no longer as sensitive as it was during her stay in the burn ward, but he remains cautious, not only for the sake of her recovery but for the sake of her comfort level.

"Don't," she sighs, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek and training her eyes to the ground.

"Touch you or compliment you?"

"Compliment me." He takes that as his permission to touch, laying his hands along the bones of her hips, drawing her in a fraction closer. "It's so stupid and superficial to care about it," she whispers, lifting her hands to the front of his blazer, smoothing the fabric of the purple dress shirt he's learned she favors for the color. "But I - I saw myself in the dress and I couldn't. Can't go out there like this."

Rick catches her damaged hand, pinning it to his chest and causing her frown to deepen.

"You plan to stay locked up in your apartment forever?" he murmurs, tracing patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb.

"No," she grumbles, scratching at his chest. "Just until the winter, when I can cover everything up."

Castle sighs and guides her burned hand to his cheek, smearing his lips to her palm. Her teeth pierce her bottom lip at the touch, so he places his mouth to her wrist, the inside of her forearm.

"Castle-"

"Does that hurt?" he inquires, lips brushing the inside of her elbow now. The skin is rough there, not yet wholly healed, but he has a feeling the shiver he elicits is not one of pain.

"No."

Castle migrates his mouth to her shoulder, nudging the silky black piece of fabric that constitutes as a sleeve out of his way.

"Here?"

"No, doesn't hurt," she murmurs, husks, and oh, with her vocals healed and functioning well once more, her voice is even sexier.

The hand at his chest clenches into a fist in his shirt, reeling him in until their bodies are sealed together and his mouth is at her neck, his tongue caressing the uneven patches of skin, his teeth scraping over the raised scar upon her jaw.

Kate turns her head, lips seeking at the bone of his cheek, his chin, until finally, his mouth covers hers. She hums at the press of his lips, both of her arms winding around his neck, fingers gliding into his hair, tangling.

"How could you question that?" he demands, nipping at her bottom lip and trailing his hands down her spine at the same time, encouraging the arch of her body into his, relishing in the moan approval that blooms between them. "Do you know how hard it was not to touch you in the hospital? How much I wanted to do this-" Kate gasps into his mouth at the skate of his hand down her back, skimming the curve of her ass and receiving the rise of her hips in response. "How wrong it felt to want you when I was supposed to be taking care of you?"

"I wanted you too," she breathes, her lips curling against his like it was a secret she's been holding onto, finally revealed.

"Then stop trying to convince me that I shouldn't want you back," he growls, nudging his nose to the bone of her cheek, sliding one hand up to cup her nape. "That I shouldn't be attracted to you when you're all I think about."

Kate brings his mouth back down to hers, aggressive and needy, but the sigh she breathes into his mouth is tender, so soft and long overdue. Castle backs her into the kitchen counter, falls into the cove of her body and fits his hips, his thighs, within the cradle of hers. He pushes his tongue past the seam of her lips, eliciting a moan that nearly causes him to lose control of his rapidly beating heart.

"You're beautiful, Kate," he pants the words against her cheek, trying to gentle her, because he knows it's too soon for more than a first kiss – well, kisses – but her arms band tighter around his neck.

"Don't stop," she husks, one of her legs hooking at his calf muscle, nearly causing his knees to buckle, his body to collapse, give in to her. "Please don't stop."

"D-dinner?" he stutters, earning another upwards turn of her lips against his before the grind of her hips leaves them both gasping.

"Later," Kate gets out and it's enough, enough for him to hoist her body into his arms, to dedicate his lips, his tongue and his teeth, to her neck, her jaw.

He resists the urge to simply set her down on the counter, carrying her down the nearest hallway instead. She nods in affirmation when her back hits the partially closed door of her bedroom.

"You're sure?"

Her forehead collides with his, allowing them both the opportunity to take a breath. For Castle to place her back on her feet at the foot of the bed and steady her unsteady legs with his hands at her waist and a smirk on his lips.

"You want this? Me?" she asks instead, her mouth brushing his with every word, driving him delirious, but he cradles her face in his palms and meets her eyes when he answers.

"Yes," he says with certainty, the yearning to touch his lips to every inch of her skin, each perfectly flawed piece of flesh, overwhelming.

Kate flicks her eyes to his mouth, back up to his gaze, and dusts her smile to his before she speaks again.

"Then show me."


End file.
